"That was my father's idea. Not mine. He started developing you before I was born."
"So he wanted me to be able to suffer." Isidore says.
"Yes."
"I see. Are there others like me?"
"No. The others failed." Blice says. "You are the only artificial human to be created. It was outlawed right after you had grown enough to be removed from the gestation tube."
"A tube? That's comforting."
"Niko . . ."
"Just stop. I don't want to know anything else." Isidore says.
"Niko?" Blice reaches out and touches Isidore's shoulder.
Isidore goes to the door. "Just . . . just leave me alone for a while."
"Sure. If you need anything, let me know."
He goes into the bathroom and removes his clothes. The reflection in the mirror is that of a young man, the very same man he has always known himself to be. But now, the quiet spark, the flicker of hope in his eyes has died and faltered, condensed down to smoldering coals which are not hot enough to warm him through a dark night. Perhaps it was never there to begin with. Only humans can have hope. Only humans deserve to live.
The tile under his feet is cold, but he wants to know that he's alive so he lets the freezing water from the shower cover his skin and send shivers down his back and legs. Does he feel this right now? Or is this sensation just the product of someone's programming, some artificial state of being?
As Isidore watches the water move over the lines on the palm of his hand, the most basic and desperate question swells in his mind. Does he have a soul? Has God truly abandoned him because he can never be loved? Was Damien ultimately correct? Is Isidore unlovable? He knows the answer. If God is a human God, existing and ruling for humans, then Isidore will never be accepted by a deity that has chosen humanity as its subjects. Is there a mechanical, basely organic and electrical god for him to pray to? Will any being higher than himself even hear his prayers, however preprogrammed and artificial they may be? Does any power in the universe even give a damn about the false feelings of an android?
Isidore turns the water off and avoids looking at himself in the mirror as he goes into his bedroom. He dresses and with one last prayer to the human God, he says farewell to hope and independence. He's a monster who deserves nothing more than to be controlled, confined, and prevented from living. You have to be born to live. Not created. Created things exist and function.
There's a knock on the bedroom door. "Niko, can I come in? We need to talk." When Isidore doesn't answer, Blice opens the door and steps inside. "Isidore . . ."
Isidore kneels down at Blice's feet and stares at the floor. "I don't want to live a lie anymore. I don't want to be treated like a human."
"What are you saying?"
"I want you to treat me like you would an animal. That's what I am. I'm not even that, though. I'm an object. I can't feel or live on my own because I'm not real. I was made to be your slave. Your father was right. You should keep me tied up and in a cage."
"Is that really what you want?" Blice asks.
"Does it matter what I want? I have no rights and no one cares if I'm alive or dead. Is this even living? Am I actually alive or am I just existing?"
"Stand up."
Isidore obeys.
"Why are you acting like this?"
"You programmed me. Shouldn't you know? Or do you want me to stop feeling altogether?"
"Stop." Blice pushes Isidore over to the bed, pins him down, and sits on top of him. "We're putting an end to this right now. You are my friend. I don't care if you're a human, a dog, a car, a computer, if you have skin or if you're made of plastic. I don't give a damn. You're my friend and I love you like a brother, Niko. You will never be just a computer or an android to me. I will give my own life before I see something happen to you. I mean that."
Isidore starts to remember something vaguely in the back of his mind as Blice holds him down on the bed. No. It's not real. That couldn't have happened.
"Niko? Are you all right?"
He closes his eyes. "You've done this before. I can tell by the way you hold me down with your legs."
"What are you implying?"
"You think I haven't heard the rumors?"
Blice stands up. "Oh God, Isidore. No. Not you too. Surely you don't believe them."
Isidore sits up and looks into Blice's deep purple eyes. "I'm not sure."
"If I was hiding something like that from you, would I have given you your memories back?" He sits on the bed beside Isidore and takes his hands. "Niko, no. Don't even say things like that. I care about you like a brother."
"Do you really?"
"Of course. I'll be right back. Stay here." Blice goes into the other room then returns a minute later with an envelope. He opens it and pulls out an official document. "Here. You need to know this in case something happens. Look."
Isidore takes it and spreads the paper on the bed.
If some unforeseen event results in my death, I place all ownership of my belongings and estate as well as responsibilities in the hands of Isidore Nikolai Williams. He is to receive all benefits, rights, and privileges that belong to me at time of death. I have also set aside an account that will be given to him after my death to ensure that he will live comfortably and remain in my house in Paradise. He is the sole heir to my fortunes and he is to be regarded as such. I swear this on the great insignia of the Inquisition,
Blice Antonio Evans McSage
"This is as real as it gets." Blice says as he sits on the bed next to Isidore. "If I didn't care for you, why would I do something like this? Turn the page. It has been signed by every member of the Inquisition and my father. I never lied to you about your memories or what we used to have. I will die if I lose you. You saved my life so many times. I know you remember those nights when I was passed out on the bathroom floor, my heart racing from all the pills I took, unable to even call for help. You were there. You were the only person who cared about me. I almost died from alcohol poisoning, from drug overdose, and you were there for me. Countless nights went like that. You never left my side. You stayed there and held me in your arms until I woke up and you helped me get a shower and then put me in bed. I should have been dead a long time ago, but you wouldn't let me die. That's why I love you so much, Niko."
"Why did your father sign this if he hates me so much?" Isidore asks.
"He owed me a favor."
Isidore looks at Blice who puts his arm around his back. If Blice can still find something worth loving in Isidore, then maybe . . . just maybe there is an aspect of life and humanity hiding deep below the fabricated exterior.
Blice folds the paper back up. "I can tell you this . . . you don't have the emotions I programmed you to have. You have evolved and adapted over time to be the person you are. It's beautiful and you have developed into more of a human than many humans on this planet. Never lose that passion and caring that you have. You may not be human, but you can help humans like no one else can. I believe in you, Niko. Don't view this as a setback. See it as an opportunity to be better than terrible humans like me. Be the beacon for humanity to follow."
14
Dear Diary,
Today I met one of the quietest, kindest, and most mild-mannered men ever. He's Blice's partner, Isidore Williams. He doesn't say much and he does whatever Blice says. They seem to be good friends and they're really close. At least, that's what I thought until earlier tonight I saw Blice hitting him with his belt. I hid in the closet and watched as Blice was screaming and beating him. Isidore didn't fight back or defend himself. He stayed still on the bed, silently crying as Blice hit him until he was bleeding. Why wouldn't he fight back? What could a nice person like him have done to make Blice so angry? Blice has never been a violent person and now I'm questioning my relationship with him. If he can do that to his partner, what will he do to me if I mess up after we're married? Well, I just got back from talking in private with Isidore. He has nothing but good things to say about
Blice. He said they are best friends and it's almost like he doesn't remember what happened. I asked about his wounds and he shrugged his shoulders. Something is going on between them and I don't like it. Is there a darker side to my future husband that I haven't been exposed to yet? Only time will tell. I don't dare go ask Blice about it. I will watch from a distance and if things get worse, I will be forced to do something I don't want to do. Farewell for now.
Byron sighs and turns the page.
Dear Diary,
We leave for Styx in the morning. We are going to meet with the two leaders of the Outlander Force, agents Thompson and Montgomery. Blice says there is some ancient technology hidden deep under the city in some abandoned mines. Usually the Inquisition doesn't work with the Outlander Forces. I hope things don't get bad tomorrow. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Well, more hurt than they already are. Isidore hasn't said a word all day. He's been quietly looking out the window of his van as we drive. Blice wouldn't even let him drive his own van. Sure, Blice is the senior inquisitor, but Isidore is only eighteen and doesn't know what is going on yet. He's my age and I feel really bad for him. Blice is so strict and for no reason. I know that Isidore is trying to make Blice happy. That's all he talks about, when he does talk. I was a bad girl and went snooping through some of his belongings. In Isidore's bag, I found some clear pills. I know that M.A.G.E.s have to take them to help control their magic, but what does an inquisitor need them for? Blice is the only inquisitor who is also a M.A.G.E. Then I found something even more concerning. A piece of paper with emotions written on them and next to them are examples of what those should mean. Beside sadness, it reads: Your Owner died. Beside happiness, it reads: Your Owner let you live. What does that mean? It goes on and on. Owner? Is he training Isidore to feel a certain way? Then I found the worst thing in the bag. A dog collar that delivers electric shocks and a nasty-looking whip. I have a terrible feeling that Blice makes Isidore wear this. I get more and more afraid the longer I'm around those two. Well, Blice is calling for me and I don't want to make him angry. I'll write later. Wish us all luck in Styx.
Byron bends the top corner of the page to bookmark it. This evidence could be important in knocking some sense back into Isidore. "Hey, Damien . . . I found another one."
Damien pulls one of his throwing knives out of the wall and tosses it across the room where it pierces through the dingy yellow curtains. "In Leena's journal?"
"Yep. She saw it."
"Keep reading. We need to know if there's any evidence about those rumors we've been hearing."
"Blice wouldn't go that far."
Damien places his gold sensor on his arm and goes to the door. "You don't know Blice McSage."
* * *
The streets of Rubble City are still dilapidated and mismatched with colorful tarps and scavenged sheets of corrugated tin propped up against the crumbling sides of buildings where children play cards and roll dice into the sand-strewn midday shadows. Rubble Rebels with their red t-shirts and white camouflaged pants stand guard with their improvised weapons and stolen machine guns.
As Damien walks past the courtyard, he looks away from the thousands of bullet holes in the side of the building and the blood that is still staining the pavement. Isidore's blood. He can picture it in his mind, that same haunting and disturbing image of Isidore collapsing to the ground, lifeless and bleeding from the nearly two hundred bullets that filled his body. Damien was supposed to protect him and defend him, but he was blinded by self-righteous anger and stood there as an innocent young man was gunned down by a firing squad. He still hates himself for putting Isidore through that. Those two months that he was away were the worst of Damien's life. Guilt had been chewing away at his soul and he was on the brink of ending it all when Isidore showed up again, healed from his injuries and with a renewed sense of self-worth.
Damien finds a wooden bench near the far walls of the city and lies down to stare up into the powdery blue sky where the thin wispy clouds dance high in the atmosphere. He dials a number into the square sensor on his arm. "This is Damien Montgomery reporting in."
"Thank God." Seth says. "There were reports that you were shot down by Common Ground."
"I heard that. But there haven't been any signs of threatening actions on Common Ground's part. Tell me, where did you hear this report?"
"From Inquisitor Clark."
"The head of the Inquisition space program?" Damien asks.
"Yes."
"I'm starting to not trust that guy."
"You and me both." Seth says.
Damien sits up and runs his fingertips over the bench where the red and green paint has chipped off. "So . . . I didn't get to ask you last week, how was the wedding?"
"It was perfect. Small and nice just like Maria wanted it."
At least Seth sounds happy. "Was she pretty?"
"Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous." Seth says.
"Did you tell her I died?"
"I did, but that turned very awkward and hard to explain when your name was mentioned on the news."
Damien sighs. "So she knows I'm alive, then?"
"Technically most of the world thinks that you, Byron, and Isidore are dead. Blice is going to hold another press conference tomorrow morning announcing that you returned safe."
"I wonder if there's a way to get him to say I died."
"You can't live your life like you're dead. Eventually Maria is going to figure it out. She's a smart woman."
"I know that." Damien says. "I was engaged to her. I had two children with her. Speaking of children, have there been any reports about Zach and Xavier?"
After a pause, Seth speaks. "I'm sorry, Damien."
"Go ahead and tell me."
"The Inquisition was trying to use their DNA for W.A.N.D., but it didn't work and they are rumored to have gotten rid of your children. But that's just preliminary reports and speculation. They could still be alive." Damien peels another section of the splotchy paint from the wood. "This is why we need to eliminate the entire Inquisition. They don't do anything good for the wasteland anymore."
"I have friends in the Inquisition and I'd appreciate you not lumping them all together into one category."
"Name one good inquisitor."
"Clara Lifestone." Seth says.
"Who?"
"She has been my friend for the past year and a half. I met her when she was taking care of my wounds in the hospital. We got to talking and we've stayed in touch. Turns out she is the one who was assigned to be Isidore's temporary administrator after he almost died and they had to replace his internal organs with artificial ones."
Isidore's friend? "Oh, I think he mentioned her. Said she was naked in his bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything with her. What kind of man does something like that?"
"I'm starting to hear rumors about that as well."
"What about?"
"That Isidore Williams might not have ever been human. He's an android." Seth says as the sound of his typing comes over the speaker.
"No wonder the Inquisition wanted him so badly. Oh, I need you to run another scan of someone. Inquisitor Dark. I don't have a first name."
"Scanning now. So, you know what the law is regarding androids, right?"
Android laws? "I wasn't aware there was a law about it."
"Well, turns out that before the Inquisition outlawed the development of androids, they had sent a bunch of strict laws through the council. A few interesting ones that I have a suspicion will come to matter in the near future if the rumors I've been hearing are true are: The owner of an android must assert dominance over the android in case the android ever attempts to establish itself as a human. The android has no rights and is the sole property of its owner. Androids are not to mate with other androids or humans. Sexual contact of any kind with an android for reproduction or otherwise is condemned and punishable by death."
That's a bit harsh. "Death? Good God, that is ridiculous."
"It's to preserve
the separate forms of DNA and keep them from mingling." Seth says.
"So what would have happened if Isidore was able to mate with the T.I.M.E.s?"
"That part of the plan was made before I knew he was an android. The other T.I.M.E.s are, for all intents and purposes, humans. This development really changes our plans."
Oh. Seth doesn't know what Isidore and Byron found out. "Seth, the T.I.M.E.s were slaughtered."
"All of them?"
"Yes. Got anything back from that scan I had you run?"
"Let's see . . . what the hell?" Seth sounds concerned.
"What? What is it?"
"I'm not actually sure. Um . . . according to this database and the information I could pull from the Unified State network, Inquisitor Dark was the code name for the leader of the T.I.M.E. uprising twenty-one years ago."
"So he's a T.I.M.E.?" Damien asks.
"I'm looking through the results right now. Hey, Damien, you'll like this. What else happened about twenty-one years ago?"
He has no idea. "I was six years old? I don't know. Stop playing games and tell me."
"How old is Isidore?"
"Oh my God. Do you think those events are related?"
"I know they are." Seth says as he types some more. "They have to be. It's too coincidental not to be. It seems that we aren't the only ones who have plans for Isidore Williams. Hold on for a minute. I have an incoming report from President Evans. Damn it. If you can get into Paradise, you need to do so before nightfall and get in contact with Isidore."
"Whoa, wait a second. What is your report about?" Damien asks.
"The Inquisition is going to arrest Blice. It's a coup."
"But not against the president?"
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 38